Hold My Hand
by YoungAndOverIntelligent
Summary: Harry has never enjoyed being in the Slytherin's presence. So having to spend what could be the rest of eternity literally stuck to him? He had a feeling he would be having migraines much more often. Drarry.
1. Chapter 1

_YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY. DRARRY IS COOL._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, though, there would be so much more gay subtex._

_Warnings: This is rated M, guys. So if you're uncomfortable with gay sex, or cursing, and whatever else this story could hold, then kindly gtfo._

_o-O-o_

Harry's head throbbed painfully as he opened his eyes to the bright ceiling he had come to familiarize himself with. He was in the hospital wing. Why was he in the hospital wing?

"Oh, Harry!" He heard Hermione's worried voice ring loud and clear in the room. He could vaguely see her blurred outline. Where were his glasses?

He blinked a couple of times, getting used to the lighting, before he reached over to the nightstand for his glasses. He was pleased to feel the frame under his palm, and quickly shoved them on his face.

With his vision restored, he could actually see his two best friends. Their pitiful faces were not encouraging in the slightest for someone who had just awoken in the hospital wing without a clue as to how he had gotten there. Ron practically looked like he was about to vomit as he eyed the brunette.

Harry's expression dropped completely. "What's wrong?" _Besides the fact that I'm in the hospital wing right now._

"Well, it's-" Hermione began, but she cut herself off in fear of saying what was sure to be really terrible news. He watched her eyesight slip pointedly to his left. He followed it desperately.

Harry jumped as he began to take notice to one of the most bizarre sights he had ever seen. It seemed as though someone had shoved a different bed up against Harry's own to create one large, queen sized bed. And laying on his stomach on that other bed in a deep slumber, with his sleek, white-blonde hair sprawled out messily on the thin pillow, was none other than Harry's childhood nemesis Draco Malfoy. Confusion drenched his mind, wondering why exactly the pair of them had been sleeping so close to each other.

But that confusion was nothing compared to the terror that came to him as his eyesight traveled down the blonde's long arm and onto the brilliantly white hand which happened to be intertwined with his own. He quickly tried to shake it off, a narrow gasp escaping his lips.

Only it didn't let go. Frantic trepidation began to seep into Harry's bloodstream, now, as he quickly tugged on the hand. It was as if the hand was glued onto his own, as it was clear Draco had not been voluntarily holding on so desperately like this. He yanked hard, pushing his whole body backwards and almost toppling off of the bed.

"Stop! You'll hurt him like that!" Hermione sounded a quite panicked as well, seeing the utter desperation in Harry's demeanor. Harry noticed that he had been pulling Draco so that his face pressed harshly against what looked like an invisible wall. He also noticed Draco had just opened his eyes.

It was almost comical, the way Draco's eyes popped and his eyebrows furrowed down, taking in this situation less than gracefully. "The fuc-..?" he started, but then quickly began pulling his own hand backwards, sitting upright on the bed for a better pull.

It was utter pandemonium. The two were beyond desperate now for their hands. Their hands unexpectedly unlinked as they both tugged, both of them falling backwards only to be caught once more by the tips of their middle fingers, which refused to part from each other. Hermione was flailing about trying to get them to stop before they caused any damage. She flicked her wand to cancel the barrier that was set between them, which Draco had been using as leverage to keep him from sliding forward on the bed.

With the force field gone, Draco had tumbled forward. This combined with the force Harry was providing sent both of them falling to the ground roughly, Draco landing painfully on top of Harry.

"Stop struggling!" Hermione insisted, though honestly it was a fruitless case.

Harry shoved Draco off from on top of him, feeling almost triumphant as he realized he had gotten his hand back to himself. Draco flopped over, obviously realizing this too as he cradled it in his chest. The blonde convulsively began to crawl backward to get as far away from the Gryffindor as he could.

Which turned out to be not that far away at all, seeing as now their bare feet were the limbs that were super-glued together.

"_What the bloody fuck is going on_?" Malfoy cursed, his voice almost screechy in fright as he began kicking about, bringing Harry's own foot thrashing around with it.

"Ow- fuck- _stop that_!" Harry warned as Malfoy brought their feet into the ground roughly.

Hermione looked beside herself. "I've been trying to tell you- you have to stop struggling with each other-"

"'Stop struggling'?" Malfoy was beyond frantic at this point, "_'Stop struggling'_? He won't give me my bloody foot back!"

"As if I _want_ it!" Harry defended himself, holding onto another bed behind him to keep Malfoy from dragging him away.

Malfoy suddenly gained his infamous threatening scowl, which Harry was so used to seeing it was hardly 'threatening'. "I swear you'll pay for whatever you've done-"

"What makes you think _I've_ done this?"

"Guys! Stop it! We don't know who did this-" Hermione tried to gain control over the boys, but again it was fruitless.

Draco rounded on her, leaning on a hand to turn and face her, "You better be explaining what the fuck is going on here within the next thirty seconds, Mudblood, or I will-"

"Don't you talk to her like that-" Harry yanked his foot back so that Draco lost his balance and hit the floor.

"I'll talk to her however the sodding fuck I want, Scarhead-" Draco lifted their legs in the air, making Harry lose his own balance and hit the floor as well.

"Language, Mr. Malfoy!" Came the voice of the school's healer, Madam Pomfrey. She made her way over to the boys on the floor, tutting at the way they were kicking at each other with their linked feet. "Honestly, look at you two! You would think you would have the littlest bit of decency to not kill each other every five minutes!"

"Madam Pomfrey-!" Harry exclaimed, trying to keep their legs still through Draco's constant attempts to break free.

"Yes, yes," She hushed him, grabbing Draco under his arm to lift him upward. Harry was pulled in turn. "Oh, sorry dear!" She bent over to help him up as well. As he got to his feet, he was suddenly aware of how close he was to Draco, being their feet were still stuck together. He tried to take a small step away.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I tried to stop them-"

"It's perfectly fine, dear," Madam shushed her as well. "Given their condition, I understand if it was a little difficult to get them to come to..."

"What's going on-?" Harry started rather rudely; being this close to the Slytherin making him a little testy.

"Well, I-," began the healer awkwardly. She tried to give them both a reassuring smile. It did little to reassure Harry. "I think you should both sit down for this." She added politely.

Heeding her advice, the boys sat down on Harry's bed, both of them scooting as far away as possible. Their legs bent sideways in a bit of an awkward angle, but both of them found that was better than the alternative.

Harry took this small pause in conversation to look over to Ron, who had been surprisingly quiet during the tussle. It became obvious why; judging by the green tint to his complexion and the way he was covering his mouth he really was on the verge of throwing up. Harry swallowed thickly.

Pomfrey pulled up a stool that was situated at the foot of the bed, and sitting down so that she was level with the two nerve-wrecked boys. She took a breath dramatically, before she spoke. "I'm certain neither of you are familiar with the _Sanguis Tactul_ curse?"

Both of them furrowed their eyebrows in confusion. Madam Pomfrey sighed, as though she had figured they wouldn't have.

"Well, it's a very, very old curse that has hardly been used for at least seven centuries. It used to be used by newlywed witches and wizards, more commonly those who were in fixed marriages." She paused here, making sure both listening. They had identical looks of deep interest in her words, as well as identical looks of deep horror. "Essentially, what the curse does is link the two of you together."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "'Link us together'?" he questioned, his brain not wanting to believe something like that.

"Well, yes," said the healer, wearily. "While you are under the effects of the curse, it will be impossible for you two to not have skin-on-skin contact."

Draco stood up frightfully fast. "And why can't we reverse the spell?"

"Wha- you can't reverse it?" Harry exclaimed sitting upright, very nauseous from having Madam Pomfrey fail him. She's never failed him in the past. _She knew of a way to re-grow an entire armful of bones within one night!_

"No shit, she can't reverse it, Scarhead." Draco hissed, his steel eyes aflame, "Otherwise we wouldn't still be in this situation-"

"Draco Malfoy, watch your tongue!" Draco flinched at Madam Pomfrey's tone. She stood up and placed an accusatory finger to his chest, somehow towering over him despite the fact Draco had almost a foot on her. "I understand you don't like this turn of events but honestly, have some dignity in your crisis! Cursing and yelling at Potter will not solve the problem! I'll take five points from Slytherin for that remark!"

Reluctantly, Draco sat back down, looking evermore fumed even with how his face had blushed a light pink.

"Now," She continued a little overwhelmed, "There is a way to unlink you two, and frankly it's a really easy spell, however..." Harry looked around hopefully toward Hermione, who was chewing on a thumbnail. She sent him a weak smile when she noticed his gaze.

Madam Pomfrey also turned toward Hermione, holding out her hand expectantly. Hermione began to ruffle through het bag that lay on the floor next to her, exerting a very large, musty book from the depths. "Lucky for us all Hermione here is a _very_ good researcher." The healer commented watching as Hermione reddened, a little pleased with herself. Madam Pomfrey opened to a page that had been marked with a folded corner. She began to read from the text out loud.

_"The caster of the Sanguis Tactul is the only wizard who is able to perish the curse; this is because in the case of an arranged marriage the parents of the couple would not want them to disobediently cancel it without permission. Back then it was essential that the couple remained linked for several months to a year so that they could learn to live well with each other. The father of the groom would more than likely be the caster, as he would be the one most in power of the families-"_

Harry interrupted, "So then we have to find whomever set the curse and get them to remove it?"

"Obviously," Draco rolled his eyes, aristocratically crossing both his legs and arms. Harry almost yelped as his foot was carried with it.

"Can you not?" He pulled his foot back to the position it had been in before, uncrossing Draco's legs again.

Draco pursed his lips angrily before crossing his legs again. "I'll do what I want." He protested, even though Harry's leg was now awkwardly hanging in front of Draco's, attached by the foot.

Sensing another tussle coming on, Madam Pomfrey intervened, "You guys can pick and choose where you are linked, you know." She the added wisely to Harry, "It would probably be less awkward for you to just lay your hand on his arm."

Despite knowing that it _would_ be less awkward than having his leg draped over the blonde, Harry wasn't all to comfortable with initiating the other option, either. Draco seemed to be ignoring him pointedly, so it was no use hoping he would make the first move. Taking a deep breath, Harry reached out his left hand and laid it on Draco's bicep. The blonde flinched away for a moment childishly, but eventually let him touch; even if he was still tense about it.

The effect was instantaneous. Harry's foot fell to the ground, bouncing slightly. He quickly pulled it away and back into his own claim. Draco was eyeing him disgustedly, making the whole action seem far more embarrassing than it really was. Harry cleared his throat. "So we just have to have even the tiniest bit of flesh touching at all times, then?"

Madam Pomfrey gave a light chuckle at his choice of words. "Well, you'll find it'll be 'the more flesh touching the better', actually."

Draco scowled. "And what do you mean by that, exactly?"

She flipped back a couple of pages in the book, and began reading again._ "It is impossible for the wearers to pull apart from each other completely. However, it is quite possible to get to a fraction of a millimeter of contact, but it will eventually wear out the pair of them quickly. The muscles in their bodies will eventually long for contact again, becoming painful to stay apart. They would tire themselves out very quickly."_

Harry became aware of his muscles right now. He felt tense, but that was because he was nervous and very wary of the situation. To be honest he felt quite fine at the moment- all things considered. He wondered how long it would be until he started to feel the effects. But, he supposed, maybe since they had Harry's whole hand as contact they wouldn't tire at all. He decided to voice this.

"What about right now? Would we eventually get tired if we don't get more contact?" Harry noted Draco's blush, and became certain Draco had just been wondering the same thing.

"Eventually, yes." It was not Madam Pomfrey who spoke this time, but Hermione, "It could make you restless to not have a decent amount of contact. But the time in which you can stay apart depends on how strong the caster casted it."

Draco murmured something under his breath, and Harry had a vague suspicion it was about Hermione's blood stature. Harry was unsure, though, if Draco had actually meant it or not, given everything Draco had gone through in the war. It could just be old traditions for him. Harry tried to stop thinking about it, because quite frankly he couldn't give less of a damn about what Draco Malfoy thought.

Madam Pomfrey smiled at her, "You boys should thank Ms. Granger here, for researching this curse so indomitably since you were attacked. I admit, I have only ever heard of it in passing before during my training. This spell has been out of use for so long it wasn't in any curriculum I've taken!" Hermione blushed again.

"Where are Blaise and Pansy?" Draco called out rudely, interrupting what Hermione was about to say. "Why are Weasley and Granger here but not my friends?"

"Oh, they actually only left about ten minutes before you woke up to go down to breakfast." Madam Pomfrey assured him, "They were here practically all last night. I told them there was no need, as I also told Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, but they all insisted..." Harry was glad. He had a feeling this would be much worse if he didn't have his friends here. Even if Ron was looking more and more like the ghoul in his attic by the second. "I could go call for them now, if you wish. I need to go tell McGonagall of your awakening, anyway." She offered.

Draco nodded his head toward her, and she scurried out of the doorway. A moment later, she popped her head back in.

"And please refrain yourselves from getting physical again. If one of you punches the other you'll _both_ go flying..."

An awkward silence filled the air after her departure, no one wanting to speak for fear of making it more awkward; with the exception of Ron who was still in no condition to open his mouth. Eventually, Draco pulled the arm Harry was holding away, loosening his clasp slightly.

"Stop doing that," the blonde mumbled. Harry was confused for a moment, then took notice to the way his thumb had been lightly rubbing a small line along the inside of Draco's arm. He flushed brightly, muttering an apology, unsure of why his thumb had done that.

Trying to hide his embarrassment, Harry asked a question that had been running through his mind for a while. "How long have we been in here?"

Hermione looked up at him from where she had been gazing off in deep concentration, realizing he was asking her a question. "Neville found you two passed out in the seventh floor corridor the night before last. You've been in here a whole day now."

Harry, ignoring Draco's scoff at 'Neville', pressed this further. "And that was Monday right? Is today Wednesday?"

Hermione nodded her head. "I think it's safe for me to assume you don't remember how you got like that, then?"

Harry smiled weakly at her, "The last thing I remember is going up to the common room alone after supper."

"So then your attacker had to have gotten to you both between six-thirty and eleven, as that was when Neville found you. Though it seemed as though you were there for a while, so I'm thinking ten-thirty at the latest."

Harry found it wise to ask, "Did anyone see either of us after supper?"

Her head shook sadly, "We've been asking around. No one recalls seeing either of you after you left the Great Hall." She paused for a moment before adding, "Parkinson said Malfoy was supposed to meet her in the Quidditch Pitch at eight, but he never came-"

"Can we stop playing Auror for five minutes? I'm not really in the mood to hear you two sputtering random nonsense, right now." Draco cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose with the fingers on his left hand, letting his right arm fall into his lap.

Harry practically growled at him, "Well sorry for trying to get to the bottom of this! Unless you _want_ to be stuck to me for the rest of eternity?"

Draco tensed. "In your _dreams_, Potter. I'd just rather try to pretend you weren't here, at the moment. But that's really hard to do with you two bickering like that."

"We weren't 'bickering'," Harry rolled his eyes with a scoff. "And for your information, finding the time of day when the attacker hit us is a rather valuable piece of knowledge."

Draco went quiet for a minute, only the intense look of concentration keeping Harry from continuing his investigation with Hermione. Draco had his eyes shut tightly, resuming his earlier position of hunching over and pinching his nose. This time, he was muttering lightly under his breath. When Harry had finally had enough wondering what Draco was doing and began to start talking again, the blonde had shushed him with the raise of his hand. Finally, without lifting his position, he blurted, "The last thing I remember was walking up to the seventh floor sometime after eight o'clock- because I hadn't exactly felt like being in the Pitch at the time. I was hit from behind with a stunner."

Everyone went quiet with this piece of information. Then Harry burst, "Why would you hide this information from us for so long?"

"That's a crucial bit to keep to yourself, you know-" Hermione continued before Draco interrupted hastily, sitting straight up.

"I only _just_ figured it out, thanks!" He spat harshly. "Uncovering memories under the Oblivious curse is no easy task, thank you!"

Hermione blinked twice, "You can uncover memories that were blocked by the Oblivious curse? Is that what you were doing?"

Draco clenched his jaw tightly, refusing to look at anything other than the carpet. "My aunt taught me..." He mumbled. Harry didn't need Draco to elaborate the fact that it was probably around the same time she taught him Occlumency. The room became awkward again with the mention of Bellatrix Lestrange. "But I can only do a little. And whomever casted it did a good job covering up anything after I got stunned."

"Hang on," Harry was surprised to hear Ron speak up, sounding a little hoarse and looking a little green, but speaking nonetheless. "Why were you going up to the seventh floor anyway?"

Draco pursed his lips dignifiedly. "That's none of your concern, now, is it, Weasel?"

Ron glared at him, "Damn straight it is!" He turned toward Hermione, pointing toward the blonde. "He's probably the one who casted the spell!"

Draco uncrossed his legs very suddenly. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's some evil, sick, scheme he's plotted to get back at Harry!" Ron continued, making Draco almost jump at him in anger.

"You think that I would want this? You think I wanted to be stuck to this specky git for what could be the remainder of the century?" Draco was standing up now, bringing Harry's hand with him. "For your information I was intent on spending the rest of my days forgetting Potter's existence!" He looked ready to storm out of the room, dragging Harry along with him in his rage. Thankfully though, he sat back down, muttering under his breath so only Harry could indistinctly hear, "I have nothing to 'get back' at him for anyway..."

"Oh yeah? Why don't you try saying the counter curse, then! I'll believe it when I see it!"

"Ron," Hermione interjected, a hand on his chest to push him back. "Malfoy did not cast the spell."

Harry chuckled, a little nervously. "Yeah, I don't think he's very keen on this entire situation, so... sorry, mate."

Begrudgingly, Ron fell back, muttering darkly all the while.

"And for the love of _god_, Potter!" Malfoy flinched his arm again so violently if it weren't for the spell it would have left Harry's hand. Harry went completely red.

"I definitely think that's the spell, Malfoy." He muttered, tentatively regaining his hand's original position around Draco's arm.

"Yeah, well, it's bloody annoying and I can't concentrate with you doing that. So control yourself or I'll-"

_"Draco!"_ The next moment, Pansy Parkinson had tackled Draco backwards on the bed, ripping Harry's grip again. The end of Harry's finger caught itself on his arm, though, and slid its connection all the way down until just the tips of their fingers were touching.

"Ow! Pans!" Draco was rubbing the spot where her head collided with his chin. She nuzzled into his chest.

"I'm so sorry I was out for your grand awakening, but _someone_ couldn't control their hunger." She glared at Blaise, who was standing a few feet from the doorway next to Pomfrey. "Will you ever forgive me?" She asked dramatically.

Draco scoffed harshly, his voice sounding breathless due to her weight, "I'll forgive you once you stop weighing so much."

She made a very scandalized, high pitched noise, a hand going over her mouth. "Here I was _crying_ by your bedside all night, having to endure the company of Granger and Weasley, and _this_ is the comfort I receive!"

"Just to let you know, I might _not_ forgive you for letting me wake up to this horror with only these three in the room."

"Alright, alright," Madam Pomfrey tried to regain control of the room. "Right now I need to check over the boys to make sure they're as healthy as they seem, so Ms Parkinson, if you please..."

Pansy got up off of Draco, pouting at Draco's last jab. "That was Blaise's fault!" She protested. "_He_ was the hungry one!" Blaise rolled his eyes. Harry saw both Malfoy and Blaise give each other a smirk in acknowledgement.

Draco sat up, loosening the stretch between his and Harry's hands. Almost instantly the hands slid into one another, neither of the boys consciously tell their hands to do so. Both of them froze instantly, going a little pink. Harry lifted his hand up to Draco's wrist instead, figuring this was much less awkward for the both of them.

Madame Pomfrey began waving her wand, poking, and prodding at the two boys, writing down her calculations on a clipboard as she went. She finished soon, happily humming, "Healthier than ever! It seems your attacker didn't really want either of you harmed."

Hermione spoke, "Yes, I was wondering about that." She then asked Harry, "Why would someone want to do this to you, instead of kill you or something while they had the chance?"

Unsure himself, Harry shrugged. He saw Ron eyeing Malfoy suspiciously again.

"It's probably just to ruin our pride," Malfoy waved her off glaring back at Ron, though addressing everyone. "Seeing as though it's utter horror for the two of us to be in the same room as each other."

"It could be for laughs." Both Harry and Malfoy glared intensely at Blaise for mentioning that. Blaise lifted his hands innocently, chuckling a bit. "You've gotta admit, it _is_ rather humorous."

Draco stood up, his face deadly as he pointed toward the door. "Get out." He said through his teeth.

Blaise only laughed more, "You don't even have your _wand_ on you, mate."

Draco was practically fuming as he lunged. Harry, sensing danger, gripped tighter on the blonde's wrist and pulled him back before any damage was done. Madam Pomfrey was eyeing Draco much like Harry had seen Mrs. Weasley eye the twins a while back, calling his name in a scolding tone.

The blonde seemed to not notice though, as he kept tugging at the hand that restrained him. "God fuc- _Potter_!"

"Well, _sorry_ if I didn't want to go flying with you as you punched him!" Harry gave once last angry tug on Draco, making him wobble on a foot for a second before crashing to the bed. Enraged even more, Draco pushed on Harry's chest so that he fell over backwards.

"Boys!" Madam Pomfrey's voice echoed in the room, but Draco and Harry had already begun. They were kicking and scratching at each other, occasionally sticking to each other halfway through a punch because their skin was not touching elsewhere. Harry managed a good punch to the eye, though he felt blood on his lip. Madam Pomfrey managed to grab them both by the scruff and, with the help of Blaise and Ron, held them both back. They were both pulling towards each other by the tips of their fingers, which were connected, for another chance of getting some damage.

After a moment both boys went limp; still enraged, but sensing defeat. Madam Pomfrey began to nag, "Honestly! Don't you two have any dignity? You should spend your energy working together to find the culprit! I'll take five points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor for fighting! You're lucky I'm not taking more!" She turned to the other four teenagers, waving at them with a grave gesture. "I'm going to have to ask you four to leave so that these two can work out their situation without anyone to provoke them!" She held her glare heavily on Blaise.

As Ron and Blaise let them go to leave, Draco and Harry's hands once again involuntarily slid into each other. Draco scowled at him before being the one to take Harry's wrist this time. He clutched the grasp painfully hard, his fingers digging into the inside of Harry's wrist. Harry bit his tongue to keep from screaming out in pain and letting him win.

"Now boys, I have a report to file." Madame Pomfrey told them as she began to pack up her clipboard. "Professor McGonagall has requested a private word with you two about housing arrangements and whatnot and will be down here in a few minutes-"

"Housing arrangements?" Harry questioned.

Draco scoffed at him, gripping even tighter. Harry cold see his hand going white from the loss of blood flow. "You didn't expect for me to just prance into the lion's den, did you?"

"Your Headmistress will clear it all up when she gets here." She informed them, "But I've got to write this report- _note that I'll only be in the next room and can come in at anytime to break up another fight_." She sighed, "I guess I might as well mention that you'll find out more about this spell as you go."

"Like what?" Harry asked a little bit nervously.

She coughed a bit to clear her throat. "Well, I'm not too certain myself. That book didn't have too much information on this spell, only just enough to explain what it was and how to use it." Harry frowned, not really liking that answer all too much. With that said, the healer nodded to them then turned the corner into her office, leaving the two linked teenagers alone.

Harry could feel the icicles forming between them.

_o-O-o_

_Kcool. We'll see how the rest of this story turn out..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Whooaaaa! I'm updating on time! WHOOO._

_Disclaimer: Fuck I would love to own Harry Potter. But I don't. That's Queen Rowling's job._

_Warning: Again, gay sex and what not. Not in this chapter, but eventually. Get out now while you still can._

_o-O-o_

It was beyond awkward.

Harry twisted the wrist that was slowly losing feeling due to lack of blood. Noticing this, Draco begrudgingly slackened his grip so that Harry could feel his veins start to work again, the numbness tingling a little.

They sat like that for a minute, neither of them moving or saying anything, simply waiting for their headmistress to make an appearance. '_This would not do_,' Harry thought to himself. He wasn't really one to sit in silence- especially not one as awkward as this. And he'll be damned if he'll have to sit in others like this until the spell was lifted.

Picking up the courage he needed, Harry opened his mouth to speak.

"Absolutely not, Potter." Draco cut him off. Harry's face fell.

"You don't even know what I was about to say!"

"I knew that you were going to say something _incredibly_ Gryffindor and make us try to cooperate and get along for just as long as we are stuck under this spell. Well let me tell you something, Potter," Malfoy turned to him, his silver eyes illuminating with a spark. "I don't like you. And I am not, under _any_ circumstances, going to stop tormenting you or act any different than how I acted toward you before. Even if it means catching whomever did this to us. Nothing has changed between us. Got it?"

Harry blinked at the sudden rant. "G-got it."

Draco sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin in his left hand. They went quiet once more for a moment. "This sucks," the blonde commented lamely.

"No shit."

"Bite me."

"I'd rather not, thanks."

Draco snorted, "Yeah, never mind on my part either. I'd rather not catch any of your _diseases_."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're such a wanker."

"No more than you are, Scarhead." Harry bit his tongue. For some reason, he had gotten the feeling that arguing this could only result in another spilt lip. So he didn't.

But with this rose another problem; awkward silence again. Harry was already getting bored of their 'awkward-silence-than-punching-each-other' routine. A routine that was only in its second round.

A good ten minutes went by without a stir.

There was a loose thread on the bedding, Harry noticed. He had been staring at it for five minutes now, mentally judging it's durability. _Fuck it._ He reached out and began pulling on it, soon discovering it was a very tough thread to rip, and that it was very easy to pull and ruin the make of the blanket. After a minute, Draco spoke up. "Stop that." He scolded._ And here go the punches again._

"Stop what?"

"Th-" Draco began as he lifted the hand around Harry's wrist to smack at the thread. Their hands caught though, Draco bringing Harry's hand with it consequentially. Draco scowled, beginning to try and flick their hands apart. _Well this is interesting._

Harry quirked an eyebrow as he watched the blonde slowly become more and more frustrated, letting his hand go limp in amusement. "That's not going to work." He informed him eventually.

"I _know_!" Draco exclaimed, his hand giving one last violent shake in anger before dropping it to the bed. Harry's hand stayed with him the whole way. "That's fucking annoying." He grumbled.

"I thought it was quite entertaining."

Draco glared at him. "I'd punch you _so_ hard right now if I could."

Harry chuckled, only making Draco's glare harden. "I don't think that'd get us anywhere. Save for on the bad side of Madame Pomfrey."

"It'd sure cheer me up to give you a black eye to match that lip." Draco pointed out bitterly. Harry brought his free hand to feel the little slit. It was a little bit sore, but it didn't really hurt much. He reached over to the nightstand where he spotted his wand.

As he brought the tip up to fix it, he caught Draco watching his lip very intently. It was that indescribable expression that made Harry freeze, feeling very self-conscious. "Wh-what?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Draco snapped out of his trance, blinking to catch Harry's gaze. His face tinted a little bit, mumbling, "...Nothing," very meekly.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed even deeper for a moment before he decided to drop it and cure his lip. Fuck if he was ever going to truly understand the blonde. The faint tingling as the skin on his lip mended itself tickled, and he had to bite it to soothe the feeling.

Draco began looking over to the nightstand. "Where's _my_ wand?" Taking a wise guess, Harry pointed to the nightstand next to where Draco was sleeping. Draco summoned it to him before casting a spell to heal the bruise on his cheekbone.

The weirdest sensation flooded over Harry as it happened. Or rather, the _loss_ of sensation. More like a _drain_ than a flood. It seemed that as Draco's bruise faded, a very peculiar feeling in him faded as well. He felt a little bit lighter than he had, yet he didn't know he had felt weighted down in the first place.

It was extremely peculiar.

Draco seemed very lost in his own thoughts; so even if Harry had considered asking about it, which he definitely didn't, he wouldn't have been able to.

A moment later, the door opened revealing McGonagall in her emerald robes and a very testy mood.

"Profess-" Harry began, about to inquire about what was troubling the headmistress.

"Never you mind, Potter." Harry bit his lip to keep from asking again. "Now boys, I don't have much time, but there are a few things we need to discuss. First would be your housing arrangements-"

"Which house will we be staying in? Slytherin or Gryffindor?" Draco asked impatiently. McGonagall pursed her lips.

"Neither." Draco pouted, a little put-out. "It would be unfair to one of you if we picked the other's house. No, you will be staying in a guest suite on the sixth floor. And as for class, we have arranged a new schedule for you both, so that you will have all of your classes together."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, a little smirk playing at his lips, "I take Advanced Ancient Runes, Professor. Are you saying Potter will take up the class as well?"

Harry glared at him, knowing full well that Draco was laughing at the image of 'The Boy Who Lived' struggling through the demanding class. McGonagall shook her head, "No; Potter will attend the class, but he will not be enrolled in it." Harry couldn't help but feel kind of glad for that. He wouldn't admit it to Malfoy in a million years, but he really _wouldn't_ be able to take that class. Even with all of the help Hermione would be bound to offer. "Now, if you'd follow me, I will show you to your room." McGonagall swiftly ushered them with her hand and turned to leave out of the door without them.

At her word the boys stood up obediently; Harry stood back to let Draco take the lead. Harry questioned the strange feeling as the Slytherin pulled on his hand for only a moment. Draco stiffened, noticing the same thing, side-turned his body back toward Harry urgently, as though trying to disprove his suspicion as fast as possible.

Somehow, without either of them knowing, they had interlocked their fingers.

Their eyes widened as they looked fervently between the joined hands and each other, before Draco had the sense to swiftly released his grip to slide his hand neatly around Harry's wrist. Harry swallowed thickly, trying not to blush more than he already was, and let Draco lead him out of the room.

Harry found it better to just forget that that just happened than to dwell on it any further. For his mental health's sake.

The walk up to the room was much longer than it should have been, even if they did have to climb six flights of stairs. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that it looked like he and Malfoy were _holding hands_ as they made their way through the castle. And they were following the very tetchy headmistress. Plus he was in pajamas.

All in all, it was a rather sketchy sight for that third year who was on his way to the bathrooms to see. Harry was certain rumors would be flying within ten minutes- _if they hadn't already, that is._ Which undoubtedly, they probably had. Harry wasn't certain as to how much of the story students knew. Hopefully, they only got the bare minimum- that he and Malfoy ended up in the hospital room together.

McGonagall practically paced down to the end corridor, into where the candles seemed to always die out and everything was shadowy and hard to see. Harry had only ever walked past this, never finding it in his curiosity to fully check it out. There was a very faint light coming from the left wall, which Harry noted was coming from a pure white spot on the sole painting that hung there. _Was it moving?_

Harry almost mentally slapped himself for that one; the paintings at Hogwarts always moved.

McGonagall lit her wand tip to illuminate the picture, so that Harry could finally distinct between what was what. It was of a pure white wolf in what looked to be deep jungle, painted with very dark, heavy strokes. It wasn't until a black figure stepped in front of the wolf Harry realized there was another one in the painting; pitch black with piercing green eyes. The black wolf stood proudly, guarding the white one from whatever corruption it saw in the humans.

"The password's 'cooperation'," McGonagall informed them, ignoring Malfoy's snort. The wolves lifted their ears for a moment, before letting the frame swing open like a door.

The room inside lit up to a luxurious black and white decor. It was hard to remember he was still in Hogwarts, with how modernized and un-Hogwarts-like this sitting area looked. There was even a _kitchen_ to the left of them. _Why would they need a kitchen with the Great Hall was just downstairs?_

McGonagall told them, "You're excused from class today, but don't expect to skip tomorrow- you're both fine. Everything will go as was, though with your new schedules-"

"What about Quidditch?" Harry brought up, suddenly realizing there's no way both him and Draco could fly while stuck together.

McGonagall paused, "Well, the Gryffindor/Slytherin match has already taken place, so there's no need to worry about that. But as for your upcoming matches with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff..." She thought this over, "I'd suggest getting fill-ins for the time being, unless you're comfortable with letting the other on your broom whist in the game." Both boys gave each other equal scowls of what could only be described as _'ain't-gunna-happen'_. McGonagall frowned. "Hopefully by the next match we'll get this cleared up. In the meantime, please focus most of your energy on finding whomever did this to you. I have been doing all that I can, but it's still all a great mystery. _Why_ someone would want to do this...

"Now, I'm assuming neither of you have any idea as to how this could have happened? Or who could have done it?" She asked, her eyes doubtful, yet hopeful at the same time. They both shook their heads. Harry informed her of what he and Malfoy had last remembered the night they were attacked, as well as everything he and Hermione had gathered. She gave Malfoy a very impressed look when she discovered he can uncover certain blocked memories.

"I figured as much." She sighed, looking so old in that moment; a look which Harry was used to seeing on Dumbledore in his later years. "We've been searching the castle, but nothing suspicious has turned up. It must have been a student; you can see why it's difficult to pin someone with the information we've been given."

Harry smiled weakly at her, patting her arm, "We'll think of something, Professor."

She smiled back at him nostalgically, "I was counting on that." Harry simply smiled more truly and returned his hand to himself.

After holding her distinguished look at him for a moment, she turned to Draco. "Your mother has requested a meeting for Friday."

Draco's eyes widened, "But she-"

"Everything's been settled already; she'll have an Auror escort her." Harry tried to pretend he wasn't there listening to this, knowing both Draco and his mother have been on probation since the end of the war thanks to none other than Harry himself pleading their case to keep them out of Azkaban. He could hardly save Lucius, though; he'd done far too much in his past to be let off.

McGonagall huffed to herself, "Well, I must be going." She turned around, heading toward the painting. As she got there, she turned around to warn wisely, "And please, boys, I understand your history and everything, but do not pick fights with each other. You're already in way over your heads with this situation; there's no need to make things harder on yourself."

As she left, Draco was scoffing, his eyes narrowing in her vanished direction. "What's with these women? Asking us not to fight? That's like asking Peeves to stop throwing chalk at people."

Harry rolled his eyes at him, though let the subject drop again. If he voiced that he agreed with the headmistress that fighting will really get neither of them anywhere, they would only end up fighting about it; which would be both ironic and counterproductive. He began looking around the suite instead.

"Why is it so _luxurious_?" He scrutinized.

Draco narrowed his eyes, "You call _this_ luxurious? Did you _actually_ grow up in a cupboard?"

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing at this statement, because it really wasn't all that funny, considering he'd been miserable at the time because of it. "Yes, _actually_. I did." Draco furrowed his blonde eyebrows, a little perplexed.

"I didn't expect Muggles were _that_ poor." He said eventually, obviously unsure about whether Harry was being serious or not.

"They weren't poor; just horrible people."

Draco pursed his lips now, a hand resting on his hip in a very aristocratic manor, "You know, I could have sworn that was a rumor. And I could have sworn I'd started it, too." Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, gazing around again at his surroundings. "But you know," Draco continued, unsatisfied with how little Harry had reacted to his last few jabs, "if I were them I would have locked you in a cupboard too. You were probably a right prat; going around saving all of the bugs the other kids liked to torture."

The Gryffindor dropped his expression dully, his eyes flashing toward the blonde once in annoyance. "I did _not_ do any bug saving." He clarified.

"You still would have been a prat."

"Yeah, but I _grew out_ of being a prat, unlike you."

"I'm a _professional_ prat. I take pride in it."

Harry was about to retort, something about how that must come with being a Slytherin, when a new thought dawned on him. And it practically knocked him over in the process. "Are we making conversation?" He asked out loud, the sentence itself nothing less than... _terrifying, _really.

Draco froze as well as he realized that _yeah, they were making conversation_. Rude, harmful conversation, but conversation nonetheless. They were both really quiet after that, looking around at everything but each other. _Awkward, again. But only verbal punches, so far._

Harry was in deep thought about well... he wasn't sure what- possibly how repetitive this all felt- when Draco suddenly started walking away, yanking him out of his stupor.

"Fuck- Malfoy!" He protested as said blonde made his way to the bedroom door, placed neatly on the left wall behind the kitchen. "At least _warn_ me, will you?"

"I didn't feel like it." Malfoy spat simply, as though it was an obvious course of action to do. He continued dragging the Gryffindor unceremoniously behind him.

A twitch in Harry's jaw set off. "Fine." He yanked Malfoy in the other direction just before he had reached the door. Malfoy cursed as his whole body lurched backwards, almost making him fall to the floor. Harry smirked at the blonde looking up at him with tight lips.

Suddenly they both started to pull away from each other, springing on a very violent battle of tug-o-war. Their grip quickly slid so that they were only connected by their fingertips again, the skin there quickly beginning to pinch from the small amount of connected skin being pulled away so harshly. It was a very even match; which surprised Harry as he noted Malfoy's very thin figure, compared to Harry's own slightly muscular one. Draco had soon grabbed a hold on the doorframe, whereas Harry only had the less-than-sturdy couch as support. They pulled relentlessly away from each other, both of them determined to not let the other win.

Harry could feel all of his pent up frustration coming out of him. All of the feelings about this situation, about Malfoy, about the dickhead who got the pair of them into this situation, flooded into the forefront of his mind. He took this moment to let his anger overpower him, something he had been desperately trying to control since the end of the war.

He realized something there in those few moments of utter rage. He realized he definitely still didn't forgive the blonde for everything he had done in the past. A wave of emotion settled down in Harry's lower abdomen. He began to use it to his advantage.

As Harry started to tug with his new exertion of force, he began to feel his muscles start to quiver and shake uncontrollably. It was not even a second later that they burst violently into an unbearable heat.

This burning was agonizing. It was as if all of the blood in his body had been replaced with acid. His muscles were aching so horrifically he feared they would seize for an entire week. Within moments the burning seeped its way into his mind, his though process going completely fuzzy in the blind pain. His eyes blurred and lost focus.

This was something much more than the works of physical exertion; this had to be the work of the spell aching his muscles in such a way.

He felt Draco's pull quivering, and he knew the Slytherin must be experiencing the same torture.

The pain was too much for the blonde; he lost the hold he had on the doorframe of the bedroom. With the help of Harry's pull, the blonde lost his footing and flew straight at the Gryffindor. They crashed into each other, falling to the ground painfully quickly. Harry took most of the blow, landing on his back with the pressure of Draco on top of him.

To make matters worse, their bodies had automatically wrapped themselves around each other in a way that would take at least a minute to straighten out. It was almost as if they had been welded together; legs tangled, arms looped and pressed into each other, faces buries into each other's neck and panting as if they had ran a dozen laps around the Quidditch Pitch.

Lights and buzzers instantaneously went off in Harry's head. Malfoy's panting was right in his ear, tickling the peach fuzz and sending shivers up his spine._ What was he doing not protesting this? He should shove Malfoy aside immediately! _

Taking initiative, he tried to un-pry himself from the blonde's hold.

But he _couldn't_.

He quickly found that he physically _couldn't_ let go. He tried to un-wedged his hand up off of Draco's back, only to have it suction cup itself back onto it. He understood why.

It was as if every section of skin pressed into each other was the antidote to their still aching bodies, doing so much more than just soothing them. Pure bliss was flowing through those spots where skin touched skin; he could feel the beautiful feeling seeping through their clothes as well. This feeling was so seraphic, so _celestial_ it clouded his mind, making him forget that this was _Draco sodding Malfoy_. No, he couldn't let go. He needed to get _closer_.

He pressed his face that much harder into Malfoy's neck, breathing in that sweet, musky smell that fuzzed his mind more than the pain had even come close to. Malfoy let out a small moan from the pleasure of their skin pressing so firmly into one another's, his throat vibrating against Harry's nose. Desperate for more, they mutually pressed into each other firmer.

Harry couldn't help the nuzzling. He couldn't help the way his body was arching into the touch. He couldn't help the way he was gripping his hands into Draco's sides. It just all felt _too good_.

Harry wasn't certain how long they stayed like that. How long the basked in the feeling that this spell offered them when they remained in contact. His brain was too clouded from pure bliss. But eventually the fog began to clear.

As he started to come down from his high, Harry became more and more aware of their position- especially that breathing in his ear. He was starting to turn a very brilliant shade of red because of it. That delicious sensation was still over riding the urge to move, despite how completely awkward this will soon become. But he would shove the blonde off of him any minute now, and they can continue forgetting this situation even happened. Yes, they would do that. Any minute now. Like now. Why not now? He could do it now.

Then, Draco nuzzled his nose into a spot right under his ear, inhaling Harry's scent deeply.

It was possibly one of the most amazing feelings Harry has ever felt in his entire life. He gasped loudly, his toes curling, his brain fogging only enough to not care that this entire situation was completely _wrong_.

The gasp, however, seemed to wake Draco from his trance. The blonde pulled back quickly, shuffling backwards so that he was as far away from Harry as the spell would allow; connected by only their feet. He had his hand covering his mouth and pinching his nose, as if holding back an incredible urge to puke.

"This get's out... to no one." Draco eventually threatened through his hand and harsh pants, his finger out and emphasizing his every syllable. Harry swallowed through his own breathing, the horror of how he had reacted when Draco _nuzzled his freaking neck_ seeping into him. His face was burning. He nodded up and down very quickly.

_o-O-o_

_Thanks for reading, my loves. You guys are awesome._


	3. Chapter 3

_This chapter only has two characters- Harry and Draco. Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: Not my characters._

_Warning: Language and whatnot._

_I'm very blunt today._

_o-O-o_

A couple of extremely awkward hours later found the two of them in their rather large bedroom, discussing who their possible caster(s, as Harry added) could be. It seemed to be the only topic they could talk about without things quickly getting awkward. They sat on the large bed ("One bed?" Harry had questioned, only to have Draco snarkily deadpan, "Yes, Potter, because two beds would be _so_ logical."), Draco sprawled out and laying down with his head on a pillow, and Harry at the end of the bed sitting cross-legged; the pair of them attached by their feet.

Admittedly, Harry really wished they _wouldn't_ stay connected by their feet anymore. He knew that it was definitely very wise to do so in this situation- so that they didn't have to be seated next to each other- but there was just one _slight_ problem that his mind kept honing in on. Draco had a habit of constantly curling his toes and moving his foot against his own. And the awkward mental note that kept popping up shouting _'footsies!'_ over and over every time the blonde shifted against him was really, really distracting him from the conversation.

Despite this, however, they had come up with a decent list of people who hated both of them. Though all of them were out ruled on account of them already being in Azkaban. They also ruled out the grand scheme of the public who hated Draco, on account of the fact they all adored Harry. And all Harry's enemies were accounted for in the list that hated both of them. They tried thinking of common enemies within the school, but they really only came up with Filch, who hates everyone. And he seemed rather unlikely to curse either of them seeing as he was a Squib.

"Maybe it _was_ someone just looking for a joke." Harry frowned, completely shot out of suspect ideas.

Draco sat up and leaned back on his hands, narrowing his gaze. "That's one _sick_ bastard."

"It could have been Peeves. He always likes a laugh, and he's quite sick about it most times," Harry said in agreement, and began picking at another loose thread in the black comforter of the bed. Draco watched him, his expression falling slowly to anger.

Draco picked up the foot which was not linked to Harry and kicked his hand away from the thread. "Stop that."

Harry looked addled for a moment. "Why does that bother you?" he asked out of pure curiosity.

"Fuck if I know. Everything you do is annoying."

Pointedly, Harry resumed plucking at the fiber. Draco kicked him in the chest, effectively knocking him over.

"Ugh, what time is it?" Draco asked, changing the subject before Harry could complain. "I'm starving."

Harry glared at him, disgruntled. "Well, we haven't eaten at all today." As he said it, his own stomach made itself known with a loud growl. "I think it's past lunch hour, but they'll still serve food if you want."

"In the Great Hall? Are you joking?" Draco was appalled at the suggestion, lifting their joined feet as if it were evidence. "Walk around like this?"

"Draco, we already walked through half of the castle already-"

"That was during class!" Draco protested, "I know at least six people who have a free period right now!"

Dropping his shoulders, Harry pointed out, "We'll have to face them sometime. If not today, then definitely tomorrow in class."

Draco sat up straight, "I'll take my poison later, rather than now." Harry could only figure.

"You're such a Slytherin." He commented rudely. Draco hardened.

"Proud to be one, too. We're smart. What if they happen to find whomever cursed us over night? Then we'll have shown ourselves in public when we didn't need to." He leaned in deliberately, spitting harshly, "That's not a form of blackmail I'd like, thanks."

"No, you're just a coward."

Harry seemed to have said the absolutely worst thing he could judging by the way Draco sat leaned in to grab the cotton pajama shirt over his chest, pulling Harry until they were inches apart. Harry honestly had to admit that, in this moment, that threatening scowl _did_ frighten him.

Only a little.

"Better than being a brain-dead Gryffindor." He said through his teeth menacingly.

Feeling his Gryffindor pride bubbling in his chest, he bravely smirked, "That line would be _so_ much more effective if I hadn't had Hermione by my side for eight years."

Draco was obviously at loss for a retort for that one. He dropped his expression, eyes boring into Harry's all the while. It became evident that they were far too close to each other, so Draco dropped Harry's shirt and sat back.

Harry pursed his lips, trying a new method. "Fine, then. Where do you expect we eat?"

Draco paused for a moment. "...There's a kitchen." He offered.

Harry dropped his jaw in utter disbelief. "Honestly? _You_ are going to make yourself something to eat?"

Draco glared at him, his lips pursed dangerously. He cracked them open to spew, "For you information, Potter, I have grown up eating the best cuisine offered by the Wizarding World. Not only that, but I am an expert in putting ingredients together to make something worthwhile, judging by my top grades in every Potions class I have ever taken. I doubt it will be that difficult to put together a simple lunch."

Harry snorted, lifting an eyebrow and deadpanning, "I doubt you'll find Flobberworm Mucus a decent ingredient in stew."

Draco fumed, literally jumping off of the bed; Harry's foot still well attached to his own. The blonde, as though ready, braced himself for the tug to keep himself from falling to the floor. Much like how Harry had just landed brutally on his backside on the rough carpet.

"Shit- Goddammit-" Harry sputtered while Draco continued walking in a strange, but proud, limp, dragging the Gryffindor with him out into the living room. Harry finally managed to grab the leg to the blonde's trousers to both yank himself upward and unstable Draco's footing. Draco only wobbled a bit before continuing his journey.

Harry's foot was soon taken from underneath him, so he quickly grabbed a hold of Draco's shoulder to steady himself again. He willingly let his foot follow Draco's to land on the floor, but forgot that he had to lift his other foot to move forward with him. He ended up having to do a little hopping about as Draco once again lifted their linked feet.

Suddenly remembering Madame Pomfrey's wise words about choosing where they could be connected, Harry shifted the hand on Draco's clothed shoulder to the nearest patch of skin he could find- which just so happened to be the side of his pale neck.

It worked; as soon as the connection found a new place to be linked Harry's foot was once again his own to command. Though the sudden change broke Draco's stride as Harry's hand now restricted him from moving forward. He let out a yelp at the tug against his skin.

"'The fuck would you grab my _neck_ for, Potter?" Draco asked him, still stumbling a little.

"I dunno," Harry shrugged, getting obvious amusement from Draco's pain. "I panicked."

Draco scoffed at him, grabbing the hand at his neck with his own and removing it. He promptly dragged Harry the rest of the way to the kitchen.

Which should not have been a problem for Harry, because they were _not_ holding hands. _Absolutely_ not. They were just two boys who have been cursed so that they have to be touching in some way or another, and who chose the easiest method of travel by simply resting their hands in each others. Holding hands would mean they were doing it by _choice_. So Harry was not blushing.

Draco stood in the kitchen, looking around at all of the cabinets and drawers. It dawned on Harry now that he wasn't even sure if there was any _food_ in here. Experimentally, Draco opened up one of the cabinets to show a very wide variety of snacks, all presentably filled and unopened, though nothing to make a lunch out of. A healthy one, at least.

Draco began rummaging through cabinets for ingredients, pulling out various random foods at will. Harry furrowed his eyebrows at some of the items, wondering how Draco was planning to cook a whole turkey, and moreover where the bird had even _come_ from as it seemed slightly too big to fit in the black wood cabinets. Harry guessed some form of magic was involved to make them bigger, as well as keep everything in it chilled.

"Are you planning to eat the entire bird?" Harry humored, chuckling to himself. Draco's gray eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching tightly.

"Obviously not," The blonde slowly let his gaze drop to the bird, "I was going to proportion it, dumbarse." He added matter-of-factly.

Harry picked up a jar in his free hand, holding it outward and admiring it, "So you were planning on basting it with peanut butter, then?"

Draco flushed brightly. He snatched the jar from Harry's outstretched hand, quickly throwing it back into a random cabinet. "I was just spit-balling ideas. I'm not using _all_ of this stuff."

"Good to hear, because I don't quite know if cabbage and orange marmalade go all that well together-"

"Okay, you know what, Scarhead?" The blonde snapped at him, a hand place precariously on his waist, "Why don't _you_ make us lunch then out of this stuff. Something high class enough to suit _my_ tastes."

Harry scoffed at him, "I was planning on making my own lunch, thank you."

"Well, good luck with that." Draco spat sarcastically, "I bet it will turn out _really_ satisfying."

Rolling his eyes, Harry began to open cabinets. "Unlike you, I don't need five star quality dining to satisfy me." He pulled out simple ingredients for a ham sandwich, only looking a little awkward for having to use his left arm. As he finished, he noticed Draco staring at him with a very hard face. Harry smirked, an eyebrow raised lightly.

Noticing Harry's smirk, the blonde turned back to his own fixings, eyeing them as though trying to figure what he could make of it, and- more importantly- how he could do it. Harry was positive Draco had never had to cook a meal for himself before in his life; always having the luxury of a house elf at his will.

Harry, on the other hand, was pretty good at cooking simple things. A few times his Aunt Petunia ordered him to continue dinner for her while she left to do some other mundane chore, or spy on the neighbors. He also had wisely watched her make certain easy things on the off chance Harry was left home alone with nothing readymade for him. And sandwiches were pretty self explanator-

Draco had suddenly flinched away from Harry, pulling their joined hands so that only a couple of fingers held the connection. It took Harry a moment to put the pieces together- Draco's horrified face, the way their fingers alternated in their connection as though if he were to push forward they would be...

Draco had stopped Harry from intertwining their hands again.

Harry reddened, gaping at the blonde, trying to let his lips form an explanation he hadn't worked out yet. He snapped his jaw shut tightly and averting his gaze before asking, "Why do we keep doing that?" very quietly to himself.

"_'We'_?" Draco asked him, appalled that he would ever be even _considered_ to have initiated that. "If I recall correctly, _you're_ the one who was trying to _rape_ my hand."

Harry raged, turning back toward the blonde, "I was not trying to _rape_ your hand, Malfoy. I didn't even know I was _doing_ it-"

"_Sure you didn't_."

"Yes, Malfoy, because I have _totally_ fancy holding your hand." Harry scrutinized, adding quickly, "And who's to say it wasn't _you_ the first time?"

The blonde grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer threateningly, "_You're_ the one who wouldn't stop the goddamn rubbing-"

"Malfoy, it's the fucking _spell_, alright?" Harry yelled back, pulling his face closer so that they were inches apart.

"The spell doesn't include playing _footsie_ for an entire hour, Potter."

"_You_ were the one moving your foot, Malfoy!"

"No I-"Draco froze, his eyebrows furrowing through his scowl for a full moment. "No I wasn't!" he muttered lamely, darting his gaze from Harry as though he was trying to convince himself of this fact.

Harry was right about to press this issue when something to his right caught his eye. His eyes widened, seeing Draco's hand squeezing his own almost possessively, in what should have been a very painful manner. But it wasn't painful. _Why wasn't it painful?_

_Because it was actually pleasurable._

In fact, Harry had to resist the urge to _squeeze back_. Their hands were emitting a mild version of that amazing, blissful feeling from earlier. But it was still near impossible for Harry to let go.

He coughed into his other hand, trying to get Malfoy to notice. But the blonde seemed quite lost in thought. It took a very sharp "_Malfoy_!" to get his attention.

"_What_?" Draco had snapped at him bitterly. Harry awkwardly nodded his head in the direction of their intertwined hands.

Draco had flinched when he saw it. He went deathly red.

They stood like that for a few awkward moments. Harry could tell that Draco was debating whether to pull his hand away or not.

"I think-..." Harry cut himself off at the murderous look Draco had sent him. He swallowed harshly and continued, "I think we should stop fighting it." The blonde looked like he really wanted to protest this, so Harry explained. "Look, I don't mean like, all the time or anything, but I think the harder we try not to the harder it will be to, er, _not_."

Silver eyes rolling, Draco commented, "You have a way with words, Potter."

"Malfoy-"

"Fine, Potter." Draco shushed him, "To be honest- and as much as I'll deny it later- I know what you mean. Well, I would have if you had said that sentence in proper English, anyway."

Harry nodded at him, feeling that's as much of an agreement as he'll get from the Slytherin.

"And," continued Draco, "no one else sees this. Got it?" Harry scoffed.

"Out of all of this, you're only worried about your reputation."

"Unlike _some_ slayers-of-Dark-Lords, I have to _work_ to keep my reputation alive."

"Fine," Harry steered the conversation back away from that kind of topic. "No one else sees this."

Draco eyed him suspiciously, "Well don't sound _too_ depressed, Potter."

"I'm not depressed!" Harry defended himself, "You're just giving me a _headache_-"

A blonde eyebrow popped, "Am I causing you physical pain? What a pity."

Exasperated, Harry began making his sandwich with one hand, pointedly ignoring the blonde.

"Are you ignoring me now? Good strategy. I'm sure it will work." Harry managed to open the twist tie awkwardly. "Say Potter," the blonde rested against the countertop, "Did you know your hair looks like a raccoon is nesting in it? I mean, honestly, have you even _heard_ of a comb?" Harry continued working with his teeth clenched around his tongue to keep from spitting back at him. "You would think someone of your stature in the public eye would know to care about the way his own hair falls. I've heard of teased hair before, but I believe you're the first to style it _tortur_- AHH!"

Harry had summoned a knife from behind the blonde wordlessly, sending it zooming right past an outstretched arm. Harry caught the knife coolly, making a show of cutting his sandwich diagonally and placing it down on the counter carefully.

In this window of opportunity, Draco managed to snatch a slice away from the Gryffindor.

"_Oi_!" Harry called after him, but the blonde had already sunken his teeth into it. "What the hell Malfoy? What happened to your bloody turkey?"

Malfoy chewed the sandwich thoroughly, "That would take too long. And I'm starving."

"So make your own sandwich!"

"Why should I do that when there was a perfectly made one right in front of me?" Draco stated simply, his prestigious aura hardly faltering. "Honestly, you'd think you'd understand you were dealing with a _Slytherin_ here."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fine, Malfoy." Harry suddenly looked up at the blonde, a smirk playing at his lips, "Though you _did_ just admit that I made a perfect sandwich."

Draco opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. He narrowed his eyes menacingly, "It's called 'politics', Potter. I was making a point."

Harry continued to smirk to himself, picking up his half of the sandwich. "And _in_ politics you have to follow through with your words, or else others will use them against you."

Draco chose to ignore this, "Look, are you going to make more of these or not? Half of a sandwich is hardly a lunch."

_o-O-o_

"I'm bored." Harry commented dully. The pair of them had decided on settling in the sitting area after lunch. After the blonde made it clear that he did not want to continue mulling over who their caster was, as they had already spent hours going around in circles about it earlier, Harry settled on thinking it over by himself while Draco found a book to read from the large bookshelf.

To be honest, it hadn't gotten him anywhere.

"Good for you," Draco drawled, obviously very involved with his book. Harry made a noise of frustration, definitely not in the mood to be around the Slytherin anymore. Well, _ever_ actually, but especially not now.

"Can we _please_ go down for dinner?" Harry finally whined.

"It's three o'clock in the afternoon, Potter. Dinner hour starts at five." He idly turned a page in his book.

Harry groaned, leaning his head back on the sofa. "You're horrible company."

Draco glared at him, finally prying his eyes off of the book. "Only because _you_ don't know how to hold a decent conversation."

Harry brought his arm up to rub his face, forgetting that Malfoy was connected to him with his foot touching his forearm. It slid down to his elbow. "It's actually because _you_ don't know how to be a decent human being for five seconds." Draco yanked his foot back down so that Harry's hand flew away from his face.

"You don't deserve my decency, Potter."

Harry nearly growled back at him, because honestly you would think defeating the man who was holding him hostage would win him decency points. Apparently not.

But under an unspoken policy of logic it was clear that both of them decided to put the war under the rug for the time being. It was a really touchy subject for both of them, and Harry wasn't certain talking about it now while they were stuck together like this would come to a very reasonable outcome.

Harry got the feeling that Draco was thinking along the same lines as him, and decided to skip around the subject, "If you're really that bored you can give me a foot massage." He slid his foot up into Harry's hand.

"Urg!" Harry scrunched up his face and let the foot slip down his arm again. "That's nasty, Malfoy!"

The Slytherin leaned up off of the arm of the couch to smirk at him, leaning back on his hands now. "Foot problem, Potter?" He wiggled his toes teasingly.

Harry scrutinized him, "Actually it's more of a _'you'_ problem."

Malfoy pursed his lips, somewhat rocking back and forth on his hands. He finally came to a conclusion, "I know what you mean, though. I'm getting quite bored with only you here as well."

Harry jumped on this, "So let's go somewhere or something-"

"Absolutely not." Draco shut him down, flashing him a very demoralizing look. "I told you we're not going out like this, Scarhead. I'd rather _not_ be seen with you in public. I'd rather not be with you at all, for that matter."

Sighing, Harry asked, "So then invite them here?"

Draco nodded curtly. "Very good, Potter, you know how to use your brain. I would never have guessed."

"Prat."

Making a very noncommittal response, Draco reached forward and grabbed Harry's arm so that he could stand freely. "Only Granger and Weasley on your part." He warned as he led the Gryffindor into the bedroom to rummage through his bag (which had found their way into the room before they had gotten there) for quill and ink. "As for me, Pansy and Blaise. Got it?"

Harry pursed his lips, "You know, Malfoy, we _will_ have to face everyone at some point." Draco continued his search, ignoring Harry and his logic pointblank. Instead, he began to scribble a message, tossing Harry parchment as well.

They made brief letters, requesting their friends to join them and relieve them of each other for a few hours after they get out of class, giving them directions and the password for entering the portrait. They were both nearly begging for them to bring as much food as possible. Harry was certain Draco was dreading having to live up to his name and cook that bird, and Harry himself was not willing to taste the outcome.

Harry had almost convinced Draco that they needed to head down to the Owlery when Draco flicked out his wand, casting a neat charm on them to make them zoom around overhead like paper airplanes. Harry connected this to the way Ministry workers send each other notices at work.

"Won't they disturb class, though?" Harry asked, imagining the look on Hermione's face upon realizing she would be partial reason as to why they had to stop class.

Rolling his eyes, Draco informed him, "They can't open doors, Potter. They'll have to wait until class lets out to get to them." Harry was about to comment that it was a brilliant plan, but then he realized he was talking to Malfoy and decided it would be weird to compliment him.

They stood there, back to being very awkward with each other.

"I think we should host an investigation tonight." Harry spoke up before he could stop himself. He had been thinking about it earlier while on the couch. He wanted to check out the area they were attacked in for any form of a clue.

Draco sputtered, "You do realize McGonagall has already done that, right?"

"It can't hurt to check again," Harry explained, leaning against the protruding counter in the kitchen. "I think that it might help uncover memories- being at the scene of the crime."

"I honestly do not think I can uncover more." Draco commented, his eyes focusing on the ground below him. Harry clenched his teeth, desperate to ask how to be able to unlock blocked memories.

Instead, he asked, "How can you tell?"

Draco shot him very sharp daggers. "Because I can."

Harry deadpanned, "Obviously."

They were quiet for a few more minutes before Draco finally spoke up again, "I know for a fact, Potter, that you happen to have taken up Occlumency back in sixth year. I know this because Snape often complained about how much of a dreadful student you were." Harry lifted an eyebrow when Draco looked over toward him poisonously, silently wishing him to continue whilst ignoring the jab. "If you had listened to him, you would have known that the mind is layered."

Draco paused here to make sure Harry was listening, because he sure as hell was not going to repeat himself. "All that the Memory Charm does is add more layers on top of certain parts of the brain you want to cover up. The stronger the charm, the more layers are added."

Harry knitted his eyebrows together, "So then you're saying someone casted the charm twice on you? One weak and the other stronger?"

The blonde rolled his eyes, "Good job, Potter. Would you like a sticker?"

"So then..." Something clicked in Harry's mind, "So we're probably looking for at least two casters, then."

"Most likely," the Slytherin sounded quite bored, as though he had come to this conclusion hours ago. "One who's a good at casting Memory Charms and another who's not."

Harry's green eyes narrowed, "Did you already know this?"

"Obviously," he scoffed, coolly averting his gaze.

Harry tightened his grip around Draco's wrist, suddenly raging, "And why didn't you tell me?" he muttered through his teeth.

Draco flicked his wrist so that he could grab Harry's in turn. "I didn't feel like having you go all 'heroic auror' on me, Potter. You have quite an unhealthy obsession with doing that."

Sputtering a bit, Harry felt the urge to punch the blonde. "Malfoy, I'm trying to find us a way out of this curse-"

"You do realize there are _trained_, _professional_ aurors to do that, though?" The blonde crossed his arms lethargically. "Ones whom I trust _far_ more than I trust _you_."

Harry clenched his teeth, nearly ready to bring up the war and how he had destroyed every Horcrux _without_ the help of any aurors.

Draco shook his head of pale blonde hair, "It'll only be a matter of time before they find them."

"And what if _we_ find them first?" Harry pushed himself off of the counter, so that he was now face to face with the Slytherin. He simply rolled his eyes.

"And why do _we_ have to?"

"You do realize that aurors can have twenty different missions at a time, right?" Harry pressured, "It would save them a lot of trouble."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, "Whatever, Potter."

"Fuck you, Malfoy!"

Draco gained a pained expression, closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose before he looked back up to Harry. "Just to let you know, I'm mentally storming out on you right now."

Throwing his hands up in the air, Harry exclaimed, "I would have done that hours ago!"

Draco's hand was pulled from him, so he bitterly pulled it back with storming eyes. They both eyed at the hands as though the action as though it was another challenge to pull at each other again. They looked back at each other, a spark detonating between them instantly.

Almost simultaneously, they dropped it. They both feared it would end like the last time.

Awkward silence again.

_'The is really getting old,_' Harry thought to himself, leaning back onto the counter again.

A few moments later Harry could practically feel the way Draco had gone sickly pale. He looked up to the blonde, eyebrows knitting again.

"What?" He asked, weary of the way Draco's eyes were bulging.

Too quickly, Draco had looked up at him. Harry flinched. "What?"

"Wh-what's wrong?" Harry asked, now deeply concerned about the fact whatever was bothering Draco could very well effect him too.

"What do you mean? What? Nothing." Draco was speaking way too quickly for this to be the truth.

"You! You're all..." He's all what? "You're all bothered about something!"

"No I'm not." Harry could feel the way Draco's hand was twisting around his wrist nervously.

Judgmentally, Harry narrowed his gaze, unable to keep the worry out of his own voice. "Okay, either tell me now or stop freaking out about it because you're making _me_ freak out."

Draco bit his tongue, bouncing a little on his feet and keeping his eyes far away from Harry's. "We have to..." he trailed lamely. With a new surge of aristocracy, he lifted his head, boring his eyes straight into Harry's as though daring him to object. "I would like to change before my friends get here."

_Oh._

_o-O-o_

_For those of you who hadn't guess already, there will only be small time skips for now. There's too much sexual tension within the first week or so to skip out on. And I'm a sucker for sexual tension._


	4. Chapter 4

_This changing scene was too brilliantly awkward and sexually frustrating to pass up. Also, I called in the help of my boyfriend to help me with this scene, to get a clearer vision on how to undress with having to touch one another. Bonus points for the most original way to get their boyfriend naked? I think so._

_I do not own the characters_

_o-O-o_

_Really, how difficult could getting changed whilst attached to your childhood nemesis be?_

Apparently, it was _really hard._

Harry could tell this was going to be far more awkward with Malfoy than with a normal human being. He'd seen Ron naked loads of times in their dormitory- not willingly might he add- but that was _Ron_. Seamus, Dean and Neville he had seen a couple of times as well, which wasn't really awkward because they were all mates. He's been on the Quidditch team for years, and they always all changed in the same locker room, so he's even gotten changed with a few girls before (though the witches were always very certain to be covered completely at all times, thanks to Fred and George).

But this... this is _Malfoy_. Of all people. The boy who constantly tried to make his life a living hell. The boy who constantly tried to hex him any chance he got. The boy who Harry despised above all others. The boy whose life Harry had saved twice in the war, and who had saved Harry's own once as well, though neither of them have ever spoken a word about any of it before.

To get naked in the same room while simultaneously touching an equally naked _Draco Malfoy_? This was most definitely bound to be the most awkward situation Harry has ever been a part of before in his life.

Which is why both of them had taken as long as possible to gather clothing from their drawers.

They stood for a moment just staring at the clothing, dreading what was to come. Finally, Harry took a deep breath and removed the T-shirt he was still wearing. He brought the article up over his head ready to toss it on the bed. He noticed quickly that since Malfoy still had the grip on his wrist, the shirt lay limp near their hands, still well around his arm.

"Er..." Draco simply watched, his face red, as Harry grabbed his wrist with his free hand so that he could let go with his other. The shirt fell to the floor.

"Wait-" Draco stopped him to remove his own shirt, now in the same position Harry's had been in before. Harry once again switched hands so that Draco's too could be freed.

Draco looked like he was contemplating something as he eyed the shirt, before he settled on picking it up. "Stop," he twisted his wrist to let Harry give him a bit more freedom. He began to fold the shirt, placing it neatly onto the bed.

Harry knitted his eyebrows together, "Are you really _folding your shirt_?" Draco glared at him. "It's only going in the wash!" Draco did that thing where he breathed quickly, huffing almost, in that aristocratic manor he always seemed to have.

"It's to keep it from wrinkling, dumbarse."

"You wear it to sleep in!"

"A Malfoy _always_ looks pristine." Malfoy argued, "Honestly, you're _always_ in the public eye- take notes."

Harry rolled his green eyes, suddenly very aware of how shirtless he was. And of how shirtless Malfoy was. He grabbed his shirt from the bed. Right as he was about to put it on, though, he caught Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to catch his expression.

There was absolutely no denying it. Draco was staring at his chest.

Harry immediately flushed bright red. Draco's eyes were raking over his torso hurriedly, breathing very, very deeply in a way that made Harry's skin crawl. Harry suddenly wanted to disappear right on the spot underneath Draco's hard gaze. To his utter horror, Draco took a step toward him very slowly- like a predator about to pounce on its prey.

Harry was shell shocked. _What the devil was he up to?_

Quickly, Harry recovered and found the courage to speak up. "M-Malfoy...?" he croaked meekly. It snapped Draco out of his daze instantly.

Draco suddenly went dead-white, all of the blood leaving his face in a hurry. He turned from the Gryffindor quickly, grabbing his own new shirt in his free hand and ordering, "Put on your shirt." Harry happily obliged, though feeling the way Draco's hands had clammed up he still made sure to watch the blonde out of the corner of his eye.

That was beyond terrifying. Why had Malfoy been looking at him like that? At his bloody _torso_ for that matter?

Harry chose once again to ignore this incident. If he made it out of this curse sane it would be a fucking miracle.

Putting a shirt on proved rather difficult. They both tried to put the shirts on at the same time, which was completely impossible. Swallowing thickly, Harry connected their still bare feet together, praying he didn't do anything to upset the blonde again. He was starting to realize that Draco was a bit more steady on his feet than he was.

Well, that was that for the tops. Now, they only had the pressing matter of their trousers...

Harry wisely unconnected their feet by grabbing Draco's wrist again. Then, he realized he needed his hand to undo the trousers. Draco furrowed his eyebrows.

"We should have done trousers first so that we could have connected our elbows and work at the same time." He commented, a line forming on his forehead from his worry, "We're both wearing long sleeves now."

Harry pursed his lips, turning to face the blonde who was still a little pink. He tried to think it through. He couldn't find a way for them to both change out of their trousers at the same time. Feet would have to be open to let the trousers slide off of their legs. There was no way he was holding Malfoy's hand through _that_ escapade. Finally, he slapped a hand onto the blonde's bare neck.

"Ah- Bloody hell, Potter!" Draco cursed, losing his footing a little at the surprise attack.

"Problem solved. Though we'll have to work separately."

"No, really?" Draco's voice was dripping with sarcasm. Harry simply rolled his eyes and faced as far into the opposite direction as he could. He could feel Draco moving about under his hand.

Once that was over and they were both dawning new trousers all that was left were socks, and Draco wanted to wear a robe. It kind of annoyed Harry that Draco insisted on folding his clothes right after taking them off. He didn't see the point.

"Just to let you know, Potter," Draco spoke whilst tugging on his last sock, "you have really hairy legs. Though to be honest this shouldn't surprise me; judging by that nest on your head."

Harry had to double take on that, "Well it's not like I _shave_ them!" He defended. "And besides, they're not even bad!"

"Mhm," Draco discarded him, getting up from his seat on the bed and dragging Harry into the bathroom. Harry panicked for a second, realizing that at some point one of them was bound to have to use the toilet. Thankfully though, Draco stood in front of the mirror and began working on his hair.

Harry sat back and watched him, a finger hanging on to Draco's neck so that he could have full use of his hands. Draco scoffed at his reflection in the mirror as though he was dissatisfied, and began working charms to slick the blonde hairs back on his head.

In the middle of his work, he turned to Harry, "Aren't you going to comb yours?"

Harry shrugged, "It's a lost cause."

Draco rolled his eyes, finishing his work and grabbing the green toothbrush next to Harry's silver one. "You're going to at least provide decent oral hygiene? Or am I giving you too much credit?"

Harry deadpanned, "I always provide decent oral hygiene."

"Could have fooled me."

_o-O-o_

An hour or two later Pansy and Blaise strolled through the portrait door holding a plate of what looked to be sweets.

"Draco!" Pansy called, displaying the food. Draco got up from the couch quick enough to give Harry whiplash. He grabbed the plate of cookies and cakes, practically salivating.

"Pansy, have I told you you're beautiful lately?" He said through a mouthful of peanut butter cookie.

"Not _nearly_ as much as I deserve," she said, giving him one of those aristocratic cheek kisses.

Draco kissed back, "Well you are. You light up a room, my sweet."

"You're only saying this because she brought you desserts," Blaise made his presence known. Draco turned up his nose.

"Nonsense; I have always found Pansy to be the most stunning woman in all of Britain."

"Which is why you dumped her back in fourth year."

Draco straightened himself out distinguishably, "That was because the world could not handle two people of such radiance to be together at the same time."

"Sure it was," Blaise commented, sounding very unconvinced as he stepped into the room.

Pansy pushed the tray of goods into Draco's hands. "So how's the unnatural growth?" she asked innocently, strolling into the new room to check it out.

"As unnatural as ever," Draco joked back, swallowing down what had to be his third cookie. Harry realized what they were talking about.

"I'm right here, you know!"

The three of them laughed on cue, Pansy saying, "We could tell; it's hard to miss that hair."

Harry dearly wished Ron and Hermione would hurry up.

_o-O-o_

Fifteen minutes and twenty jokes at Harry's expense later, there was a knock at the portrait. He got up quickly to let his friends in, avoiding answering Pansy's question about if he would like to borrow some of her cover-up potion to hide his scar.

"Sorry we're a little late," Ron apologized as he handed Harry a large warm dish, "Hermione tried to convince the house elves that they didn't have to make you Sheppard's Pie if it wasn't on the menu."

Harry could smell the meal from here, and desperately wished he could eat half of it right then like Draco had with the cookies.

Hermione sighed, "The problem is that their whole lives they've been taught to like doing things for humans. We have to start teaching them to live for themselves while they're young."

Harry gave her a very sad smile."I'm sure they'll come around eventually," he lied.

"Draco!" Pansy's voice called out from on the couch in the sitting room, "Is there food? I'm starving!"

"You're such a cow, Parkinson!" Draco teased, grabbing the dish out of Potter's hand and placing it on the table to the right of the room, opposite the kitchen.

"Who said _you're_ eating that?" Harry spoke, "I didn't get any of your cookies."

Draco turned away, dragging him into the kitchen to rummage for plates and utensils. "Shut up, Scarhead. Pansy got those specifically for me."

Harry grumbled to himself, still seeing this as very unjust. Instead of fighting it, he asked in a very low voice a question that had been bugging him. "How long until we're all throwing curses at each other?"

"Two seconds if you don't back up off of me and stop _rubbing my goddamn hand_." Harry reddened.

Draco led them back to the table, placing the plates down. Harry was a little weary of the seating arrangement everyone settled in. Ron and Blaise were sitting at opposite ends of the table, with Hermione and Pansy next to each other on the far end respectively. It left Harry and Draco to sit across from them. The small table permitted very little elbow room. Harry counted on Hermione's mature nature and Blaise and Ron's distance to make sure nothing sparked between them.

"So I'm quite surprised that you two haven't killed each other yet," Pansy remarked lightly, grabbing a serving spoon and dishing herself potatoes. "You better hurry up with that; I have five sickles on the line."

Harry suddenly realized that if the whole story had gotten out to the school, there _would_ be bets on how long he and Draco would last. And probably who would kill who in the end. Draco spoke up to his right, reaching out and grabbing the piece of meat under Harry's fork. "Put ten sickles in for 'before dessert' for me."

"Put ten galleons for 'in five minutes' for me," he retaliated, grabbing his rightful meat back from off of Draco's plate.

"Oi!" Draco glared at Harry as the brunette began cutting up his food, ready to snatch it back.

"It was mine first!" Harry yanked his plate away from Draco's outstretched fingers.

"I got to it before you did!"

"You only wanted it because I wanted it!"

"You guys bicker like you're married," Blaise pointed out, stuffing a large helping of mashed potato into his mouth. Both Draco and Harry glared at him once more, pausing their battle mid-attack. "And you have very alike expressions when you're mad."

This comment made them both tint pink.

"They do!" Pansy agreed, practically gushing. "I can see a vein on Potter's forehead that has _such_ a likeness to Draco's!"

"If you two wouldn't _mind_, I'm trying to eat my supper, thank you." Draco pointedly got himself a new piece of meat. Harry took this initiative to mean he could drop his guard and start eating. Pansy and Blaise both smirked at him, before continuing their dinner as well.

But with that meant awkward silence. Harry did not want more awkward silence. He's had enough of it and he had until they found their culprit to deal with more awkward silences. So he spoke up, "So, how's the gossip on this situation with the rest of the school?"

Hermione almost snorted, "Well, you've had worse rumors about you, I can tell you that."

"Ooooh," Pansy's eyes lit up with the topic of 'gossip', "I like the one where Draco and Potter were fighting a flock of gnomes in the third floor corridor, then the gnomes knocked you out and super-glued your hands together."

"Or where they were fighting and then charmed each other at the same time, making the spell ricochet onto each other and turned you into slugs." Hermione added.

"I think the one where they accidentally shared a strong love potion." Pansy's eyes almost popped out of her skull at Blaise's words.

"Where did you hear _that_ one?"

"Daphne said that she saw the two of them making out profusely in a cupboard," Harry nearly spit out the sip of water he had been taking, "Though her story was that they hadn't gone to dinner, because she saw them going at it for a good hour before she left for detention at seven."

"We were both at dinner until six-thirty!" Draco's voice was very high-pitched, his cheeks flaming as he gave his alibi.

"Oh, you know Greengrass, Malfoy," Blaise rolled his eyes enthusiastically. "She make up _any_ story so long as it involves two men playing tonsil hockey."

"So how much of our story was actually told?" Harry asked, desperate to not fall into _that_ conversation.

Ron, who looked- and probably was- as if he was being forced into talking by Hermione told him, "Pretty much only that you two were in the hospital wing together. Justin Finch-Fletchley came in with a nosebleed yesterday morning and saw the, er..." Ron noticeably reddened all the way to his roots, "_touching_, so that's where most of the crazy rumors come from."

Both Pansy and Blaise were sniggering at the _'touching'_ memory. Draco seemed ready to impale their heads with his knife for laughing at it; his grip on Harry's hand tightened painfully. Hermione seemed to give the pair of Slytherins a warning look. Which was _very_ peculiar.

The moment dragged on, and Harry couldn't help but feel completely out of the loop. And something like this was definitely not something he wanted to be excluded from. But if it had something to do with what he thought it did, there was no way he was bringing it up.

Draco, on the other hand, had the nerve to address it, "If either of you ever laugh at this situation like that again I will assure you your life will be a living hell." He threatened his friends, who only seemed to snigger louder, "I'd frankly not rather touch him all the time. I can feel the diseases seeping into my bloodstream as we speak."

"Yeah, if you call that just _'touching'_," Pansy was unable to hold back. Hermione's eyes went wide.

"Pansy!" She quietly nagged, a little red as well. Harry could see Ron now returning to his green complexion. "We're not supposed to..." she trailed off, which Harry found even _more_ peculiar, and was doing nothing to suppress his growing phobia of what he thought Pansy was laughing about.

"What?" Pansy defended, very amused. "I thought it was _cute_. And Daphne would have _creamed_ herself."

_Oh god, please no_. Harry could feel his face lighting on fire as he pieced together this information.

"What the bloody devil are you going on about, Parkinson?" Harry dreadfully wished Draco would stay out of this. _Because if this horror was true it'd be much easier for Harry to ignore if Draco didn't know about it as well_.

"Oh, hush it Granger, I might as well tell him now!" Pansy was utterly ecstatic as she waved off Hermione's warning once more, "Besides, Potter's pretty much riddled it out for himself anyway."

Harry's free hand immediately slapped up to cover his lips. _Dear god please no_. He could barely hear Blaise still chuckling on his left.

"What?" Draco gaped at Harry, appalled by the fact Potter figured something out before him. He turned back to Pansy to repeat even more desperately, "_What_?"

Pansy bit her lips together, turning toward Hermione as though pleading to let Draco in on the fact. After a very exasperated sigh, Hermione caved, sitting back in her chair in defeat. "Madame Pomfrey said it would be best if they found out on their _own_, you know."

"Well, as Draco's best friend I ought to warn him of this before he wakes up feeling like he's been _raped_."

Draco knocked his plate into his glass, knocking the contents over onto the table. His look told Harry that he was outright denying the hypothesis forming in his own mind. Carefully, he stated rather than questioned, "Pansy. What are you talking about."

"You two were _spooning_!"

Harry's whole world seemed to implode with humiliation.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ON PANSY?" Draco had knocked the entire table this time, in his attempt at standing upright. While Harry was beat red, Draco had gone sickeningly white.

"Ooohh it was _so cute_!" Pansy continued to Harry, Draco, and evidentially Ron's horror. "Limbs tangled, faces smushed, downright _plastered_ to each other!"

Draco's mouth was gaping about, trying to find the words to express his utter revulsion and disbelief at the same time. Hermione began explaining to the pair of them, "Well, it's actually kind of _necessary_. While you sleep you're catching up for all of the lack of needed contact throughout the day. Not to mention the spell is significantly stronger when the wearers are tired- we're not certain as to why though. Throughout the day we put up that barrier between you so that there wasn't as much of an awkward encounter as with Justin."

Her explanation did nothing to soothe Harry over.

Draco sat back down, completely at a loss for how to handle this situation. Because this was not just an embarrassing onetime thing anymore.

This was an embarrassing _every night_ thing.

"Can we please move to a new topic of conversation now." Draco asked, pushing his full plate of food away from him. "Before I throw up, please."

_o-O-o_

_It took me weeks to come up with this chapter. I had to retype it seven hundred times. So I did not reread it because I know I'll hate it if I reread it and then retype it again. So I'm DONE._


End file.
